Refugee
by MasochisticAvoidance
Summary: Michael Myers - an infamous, desperado. Chastity Moores, a meek, seclusive young woman who is mystery in flesh. She hasn't the best past, neither do they both, when paths cross... both will have their fair share in suffering and leak into each other's secrets and form an unbreakable bond through toil and neglect.
1. Advocacies for the Unable

_"It's hard for me to believe a human being could have done what I've done." -_ Jeffrey Dahmer.

The sky is a dark, alluring ebony, marred with sepia of a brewing storm; forged from hues of fading sunlight... everything was ceasing. Yet Chastity grimaced gloom and sleeplessness, she couldn't sleep, being an insomniac and all, it wasn't easy. Anxiety played a part in this, anxiety always played a part in everything! It viciously circled her life like a vulture looking down on a helpless, dying subject; its eyes now skulls.

Pulling the covers further up, she started having a nightmarish feeling of being watched, maybe another one of her psychosis fits? The feeling was deathly, it felt lethal, even though there was no source. It made her stomach churn, "H-hello?" Chastity's voice broke slightly, having a tight knot form in her throat and choked every word that dared conjure. Biting her bottom lip, she decided that a midnight snack and drink could perhaps substitute her lack of melatonin.

Wearing thin, silky pyjamas wasn't the best idea in the middle of winter as the frost nipped her skin underneath her clad. Fighting the morbid weight on her eyes, she stared through blurred, dull eyes upon the kettle and flipped the switch up, squinting back wetness from her eyes. She felt, at the moment, so out of touch with reality; fighting depression, failed suicide attempts and shit that no one should deal with... _all too surreal_ Chastity spoke, subconsciously.

Grabbing a cup from the shelf, her grip was loose and shakey, an accident waiting to happen. Her small, frail fingers laced around the cup holder, before twirling around and losing her hold on it, sending it flying across the floor and shattering. "Fuck sake!" Chas scorned her stupidity.

A figure, a shape, slipped among the shadows, moving like liquid and soundlessly. Only muffled breathing could be heard underneath an expressionless, simplistic latex Halloween mask. His overalls bared the stains of blood and were definitely overused.

He was in pursuit of something, or someone... just by his rhythmical movements, he was on the purge. Gaze followed a feminine figurine in the old Myers' house, she'd inhabited there a few years now and he'd watched her ever since and bide his time until it fell into perfect alignment and today... _Oh it was his time, she was so sublime, it was arousing to him to how unconcerned she was..._ Moving towards the porch, the one he'd sat on when he'd committed his first ever murder, slowly twisted the doorknob.

The sound of his boots were little to none as they collided with the ground, he was now inside and she was in here with him. Michael approached, his emotionless eyes fixed upon her; she was extremely pale, ivory you could say, her hair was a pure, whitish blonde and feathery to its touch. She had icey blue eyes, intensely coloured with darker blues and medium. She was untouched, but... emotionally torn, he could sense her tense aura.

The masked killer disregarded the thoughts, returning to his trance-like state of numbness. She didn't expect a thing as he closed in on his prey...

 **HEEEYA GUYS! I'm testing this all out, so excuse me if it's not meeting your expectations and this chapter wasn't very long, neither that interesting, but it shall get better... promise! Please, please review my work and give constructively based criticism, unwanted criticism is not nice. :P** **Just a little epilogue here:** **Chastity is based off/personified as my life battles with lunacy, depression, derangement and a lot of heavy shit.** **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MICHAEL MYERS OR HALLOWEEN, JUST CHAS.**


	2. Brooding Lamenting

_"The closest and most precious people in your life are guaranteed to make you feel the entire spectrum of human emotions." -_ John Wayne Gacy.

Michael raised his knife in an aggressive manner, he was melted within the shadows and she was there... _he could reach out and touch her right now, right this second._ A small, sadistic curve played under his mask; he was ready to see her look of horror, to see her crawling from him, her demise.

He moved forward, the slight creak of the floorboards beneath him revealed his presence, Chas lurched forward, before dropping her boiling hot cup of tea at the sight of Michael, but she didn't run, she didn't scream or resist... she stood. As if completely unfazed, like he was transparent. Chas felt tears sting her eyes, she knew who he was, but he was also her escape; death. He was her release from this trap, this life. She smiled, kneeling down on bended knee to him, blue eyes pleading for a painless death.

Michael was taken back a bit; one, it'd be no fun now, two, she wanted this? Michael emitted a mix between a snort of disappointment and a grunt of confusion, he lowered the knife. Now both of them were silently staring, her eyes were so lifeless and disinterested... they actually "hurt" him a bit. Wait, no, he was "feeling". Michael lunged at her, knife lethally close to her neck and hand clamped around her torso. He wanted a response from her, but got nothing in return, nothing but an anguished squeak and wheeze. He released his grasp, allowing Chas' winded body to flop down on the ground, "Please..." she begged, tugging Michael's arm. He flinched back, moving his arm away and rubbing it, as if disgusted that this inferior dared touch him...

The minutes passed like hours to Chas, Michael still staring at her. What was he thinking? She finally broke the brooding silence, coughing slightly, "I-I'm Chastity, Chastity Moores." Michael loomed over her, sinisterly and very intimidating. Chas sighed, since his silence was obviously not going to budge anytime soon. She took a step back, flipping her hair out the way until she noticed coppery blood droplets bead her hair to her touch, she turned her palm over, faced with a large, deep cut: must've been from the cup she collected that broke. "I-I need to wash my hands and patch this up... please don't g- nevermind, do whatever." On that note, she nervously dashed off, Michael earning a glance from her dazed eyes.

He looked his home down, well... his and hers, it was basically untouched and left the same, apart from a few new ornaments, TV and some furniture. The wallpaper, the floor... all of the deco were still untouched and layered with thick dust. The return of Chas snagged his attention, now completey focused on her, she seemed to shuffle shyly, before questioning his presence, "Why? I mean... why are you here?" the girl's voice was angelic, but certainly had a crushed vibe to it. Michael replied with a hesitant shrug, he knew full well why he was here, but now... it seemed to of changed. Took a different route and needed a different destiny.

"Want to sit down?" Chas offered, instantly regretting it and shaking her head in an embarrassed manner, he could tell, she'd gone as red and blotched as anything! Michael actually found this strangely alluring, if it wasn't her innocence, it was those spellbinding eyes of hers, how they pierced even the darkest, most dormant emotions. He admitted, she was strangely attractive.

All this time Michael was staring at her, it was clear to Chas she was being checked out, how his eyes snook glances at her features. Gruffly groaning, Chas motioned Michael to follow her, although he was remaining stubborn, not wanting to budge whatsoever. "Michael..." Chas took a step further, "please don't go!" she burst out, after years of social deprivation and isolation, she hadn't had company in a long, long time and it pleased her... to have this company.

 **HEEEEEEY! Probably talking to myself, not sure if anyone's gonna read; don't lose hope though, right? What-the-fuck-ever, just hope you peeps enjoy. Cut this one short as I'm thinking shit through.** **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HALLOWEEN, OR MICHAEL MYERS, JUST CHAS.**


	3. All Hope is Gone

_"I'll never let go of my anger and wrath, but I'll always have the last laugh." - Corey Taylor, Slipknot._

The familiar glow of salmon pink and pale lilac was forming in the distance, accompanied by a lingering lowline mist. Chas was staring, tired eyed, out the window; all the while, Michael was lost in her mind, her tainted mind, she struggled to keep her sanity... or what's left of it. She was all blurry to him, a weird, unsolveable mystery. Her skin resembled fresh snow, but she treated herself like paper, carving patterns in her skin. She used razors... to mutilate herself and he'd seen, himself, do this and the reasons as to why was unknown, she really was a tricky one.

He took his first step closer to her, she was still subliminal to his every silent step, but she still had that inevitable tense aura to her, now so closer to her, he could hear Chas' breath, she whipped around and fell out of her seat. Inhaling deeply and viciously, like the breath was her last, she exhaled with a shakiness and unsoundness. "You scared me, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Chas almost begged, as if expecting a punishment for falling. Could she get anymore frustrating and confusing? Michael shrugged, resuming to inspect the house; Chas following keenly behind.

"It's so beautiful this house, although a bloodbath, I see why you're so keen to protect it and _your_ memories. I tried my best to respect it too, I knew you were out there, so I haven't touched your room neither, or... you-know-who's." Michael knew she was referring to the damned soul of Judith, that skank. He felt his skin crawl, hands clenching down on the knife. "I had a family once, not the safest family, I was neglected... heavily. I was, uhh, emotionally ripped apart and mangled, maimed. I couldn't fall down anymore, I was already on the floor. Life was difficult from the beginning; I began to lose all hope, to lose all sanity which buried itself between these lines of skin," Chas rolled her sleeves up, running each finger over the faint, silvery slits, "I couldn't get it back, it had gone. I wanted to die so badly, for it to be the end all and I wanted to go silently, but I wasn't privileged with that. Death is never given in sweet little packages you, you can't just have it and be granted death. The rope. I tied it, I took one last glance around my room, the bedsheets which were stained heavily with my own blood and jumped. I felt life ebb away, I felt it all go... until the door flung open, my guardians pulling me away and the rest is just faded, scarring memories of the undeniable need to disappear." Chas was brimming with tears, her legs began to give way and all the while Michael was... silent... contemplating, but inside his head, it was a swirl of controversy; she wanted to die, she's so upset. She ain't got hope anymore, it's gone. That's why she welcomed death.

Michael had a scary need to comfort her, to make sure no thing, no anything could get to her. So, going by instinct, he slowly ascended upon her, without warning, a pair of arms flung around his bloodied overalls and tears embedded themselves... staining. He wanted to tear her off, but fear of breaking the fragile girl was pushing it back. He fought his adrenaline pumping that ushered him to kill, but went completely rigid in her embrace, unmoving and in killer mode.

This girl had no strength, no rudimentary understanding of happiness; the fake smile she wears can't even be convincing anymore. She. Was. Gone. Now he was here, being her lifeline, her support; a murderer, helping a suicidal girl. Paradoxical, for sure. They complimented each other well, only emotionally. "Listen, Michael. Please don't go. Don't let me live this life... alone, again. Don't let the memories manifest me in indescribable ways... p-p-please." She was breaking down, like a comms line breaking up, her battle was now only beginning and Michael had someone new to look after.

 **I feel like I'm moving too quick, I'll try slow things down, maybe add some uncertainty to add more to my indirect description of my suffrage. Yeah, hope you ghost enjoy my randomness and content.** **DISCLAIMER: I DO _NOT_ OWN MICHAEL MYERS OR HALLOWEEN, JUST CHAS. **


	4. Veil, They Don't Understand

Michael stared into Chas' pleading eyes, rejecting her would definitely be the end of her will and who was he to do that? A gruff growl escaped his mouth, extremely guttural, he nodded; accepting the offer of staying... he'd fallen for her, right?

His nonchalant state gave him the resemblance of a docile, curious animal; his eyes swirling with inquisitive emotions. Chas, on the other hand, had an undeniably strong emotion of fear, fear of loss. She was sitting next to Michael, whom was elapsed in his own trail of thoughts. She stared at him, also trying to figure out his complexities.

 _Why did I fall for him? Why did I ever even attempt to... I don't even know, why the fuck am I still alive; fuck everyone, argh!_ Chas cringed, Michael taking note, nudging her, a questionable look on his face. "I'm fine, just _thinking._ " Chas murmured, her brow knotted in the centre of her forehead, "It's getting late, Michael." she ushered herself to say, wearily getting back off, she didn't want to provoke Michael in anyway possible.

The Shape was just as confused and dazed as Chas, he'd willingly become her companion, what the fuck was happening... to him. Fucking Hell, he can't do this, but her childlike innocence burned him. She was being manipulative without herself even knowing, at all.

Michael watched her, she was slim, animated... vivacious even. The silky nightgown she was in appealed to her format, dainty, but alluring. Like a pale, ivory butterfly, she drifted throughout the world like a hurt ghost. No one even considered her when she walked throughout Haddonfield's streets, no one took a second glance at her, no smiles, no nothing; God Damn, she must feel so lonely.

Michael knew all too well what loneliness was like, he was caved and concealed behind whitewashed walls all his waking life. Perhaps her mind was represented as the walls and him the emotions; compressed into insanity that resembled the tiny slits on her wrists. Michael slid up behind Chas, she was unaware of him watching her cry into the mirror, until her eyes caught glance of his reflection, "Michael! I'm sorry..." Chas backed up, stopped short by the wall.

The Shape placed a cold, calloused and burnt hand on her blotched, whitish cheeks, trailing ever so gently down to her lips. Chas was tense, he was touching her, but not aggressively...he was acting that of like a lover, or partner. _She liked it. She liked his touch_. A small giggle escaped her lips, softened eyes staring into malicious blackness of eyes, apparently, these were the Devil's eyes.

Michael braced up at her laughter, it was so foreign, so wrong. He was used to screams of horror, not laughter and happiness. Yet, it was much better, much better than hearing hopeless pleas for release.

Chas wrapped her hands around his torso, " _Why do I like you so much..."_ she blurted, feeling herself convulse at his strong, iron grasp around her own etherealy small waist.

"There's so much more to you, they just don't understand you..."

 **HAI! I was off for a long fokin time, apologies, if there's a readers out there!** **disclaimer: I don't own Halloween, or Michael Myers, just Chas.**


	5. Forgiveness

_"It's impossible to avoid him, he's parasitic and will creep inside you, unknowingly murdering you emotionally."_ ___

Michael was stumped by her question; everything he'd faced, like fire and guns... shotguns, rifles and God knows what, nothing scared him more than her questions.

He shrugged, swooping her up bridal style, her body rigid in his embracing hold. He took her to the bedroom, placing her softly upon the edge, motioning for her to lay down.

Chas sighed, "Me? Sleep? You're kiddin', I can never sleep." there was no folly tone in her voice - she was serious? "I have insomnia... it effects sleep." Chas tried to explain as simply as possible, "I also have nightmares, I get lonely... C-can you... I dunno, watch over m-me?" she tried to usher a jesting laugh, even though she was blushing insanely.

Michael furrowed a brow, standing up and sitting in an old, mahogany chair. A simple nod followed, his gaze burning into her back as she sleeped. _Wow, she's so sublime, so unaware... so off-guard... so... beautiful._ Michael grinned to his own selfish thoughts of her being his, **only his**.

Night was fading, turning to a very unflattering murky grey, mixed with milky, opaque rays of morning sunlight...

Chas woke up with cold sweat, she still had nightmares, but they were a lot more bareable. Michael, believe it or not, was still rooted to the same sworn position. "Morning, Michael!" Chas was all of a sudden bounding with unbound energy, as if some man beast has been set free within her.

Michael would laugh if he could, but all he could do was stare blankly, under the mask was him; the mask was the killer, underneath is a lonely, misunderstood man. Her company could maybe bring out that last, untainted flicker of humanity in him... just maybe something will trigger it... _only hope._

Following Chas downstairs, he watched her gracefully waltz about to make her breakfast; she was natural, much more than any girl he'd ever even considered for a second or so, before killing them, but she wasn't going to get killed. Michael was staring right at her now, their eyes met briefly, before hers submissively averted, not challenging him at all.

"Want some breakf-" She was halted, drawn into a furious hug, or something along those lines, it was funnily awkward at first, but she could melt into it.

Michael wanted to feel so bad, he wanted to experience something beyond the numbness that ebbs away at him; _he craves it._ "I'm here Michael, it's OK." Michael looked scared almost, he was not liking the idea of letting her go; he drawed her in closer, able to feel the little throbs of her heart beat.

Chas was uncomfortable, but not, admitting to it, she really liked it.

She pulled Michael towards her, "I know there's someone behind that mask; a character, a story, a someone... a personality..." she preached almost, "Let me unveil you." Chas nuzzled into his neck crevasse, Michael holding her tightly.

 **She _is_** **his.**


	6. Psychosocial

_"This disorder kills your day. I am alive."_

_

 _Unveil me?_ Again with the tough questions, Michael was still holding Chas in something along the lines of a hug. He inhaled deeply, exhaling quite shallowly, moving away from Chas. He took her in, she was shivering, probably from the cold and her lips were outlined blueish.

Michael touched her cheeks, she was icey to the feel, winter was returning and her electricity had run out... it was freezing. He stared into her eyes intently, they were dull and disconcerted, seemingly coexistent.

Watching her frail limbs fall limp to the cold, he moved up towards her, acting almost instinctively and pulling her head to his chest... he was warm.

Chas' head was pushed against a wall of brutal muscle, but, she heard something she thought he didn't have; a heart, a beating, pulsating heart. Each heart throb was intensified at her movements, as if anxious of breaking her. A smile etched onto her face, but teeth chattered and grinded from the bitter air around.

Michael lifted Chas up, sitting on the floral patterned sofa, putting her on his lap, still wrapping his arms around her.

She was held like that of a sleeping child, head on chest, snoozing softly. Michael was so close to her now, but the reasons were different... he was protecting her. Chas' body was warming up gradually, a pinkness flushed her cheeks as blood rushed. The rosiness returned to her face and lips, _oh God, she's **mine** , _Michael sneered.

The day drifted off sluggishly, evening now encroaching on day, a mauve settling on the horizon.

Chas stirred on Michael's lap, rolling over and... cuddling him? Yes, she was, Chas was cuddling him, without realising. Michael wanted to wake her up, but this was something different, the feeling of tiny arms banded around him, _Do I like it?_ He questioned himself, before nudging Chas softly as a wakeup call.

Her body inverted for a second, before strikingly blue eyes met Michael's expressionless ersatz face.

Pulling at his overalls, she yawned, "What happened to morning?" Chas dug her head into his neck, throwing her arms over his shoulders, "I appreciate you being here..."

Michael nodded, leaning into her and pressing his head to hers, _I want more of you Chas, I want you to know that you're **mine**. _ Michael grabbed her waist, Chas gasping, but not denying it, "Michael?"

Before she could say anything else, Michael pressed his latex lips to hers, passionately drawing her inwards to his wall of muscle. She melted into his kiss, still sat in his lap, Michael was getting a throbbing sensation in the long forgotten and disregarded place.

It was almost burning, a painful hardness, he pulled her closer, desperately trying to rectify the feeling.

Chas looked down at Michael, his eyes were staring into hers... those eyes showed wolfish lust, possession and other animalistic emotions and there was no way to stop him, but why would she want to? He was hers and she was his.

Michael was breathing heavily, he was deadly impatient; he wanted her now. He pinned her down, staring into those hawk-like eyes of her, making sure he'd crossed no boundaries...

 **Sorry if this is rushed, but it adequately correlates to Michael's personality and brash actions, I dunno.**


	7. He Knows, Oh God

_"This is the virus - the virus of life." - The Subliminal Verses, Vol 3._

_

Sure enough, he hadn't crossed any lines yet, Chas didn't deny him, he took full control of the situation. Michael pressed his latex mask's forehead to her very real one, she smiled, trailing and lacing her fingers within the stray strands of hair of Michael.

He still hadn't resolved the throbbing sensation in his pants, it made him cringe with anticianticipation.

Chas felt tingles surge throughout her body as Michael drew patterns on her chest, moving up to her lips - he'd never properly kissed her and he wanted to. Michael lifted his mask half way up, revealing intricate burn scars and a chiselled jaw. Veins were prominent around his neck, inwhich was thick and strong. Chas gawked at his bold, dramatic visage; it was complimented with an olive complexion to his skin.

He leaned into Chas, locking lips and holding her closely. Mustering a moan from Chas made Michael's _place_ thrive with even more vaulting intensity... Chas pulled back, "Michael, it's late." She had a tiredness and dullness to her eyes which showed Michael he'd have to stop. Gruffly groaning, pulling his mask over again, he lifted her up, sending her to bed.

Night descended, salmon-pink hues and incarnadine marbled the sky, a lowline mist hung in the drab streets of Haddonfield. A stern, echoing cough could be heard outside Chas' house, accompanied by a knock.

Chas stretched, feeling her bones grind morbidly in their sockets, "Who is it?" she called while strutting down the stairs; a man, clad in a tan trench-coat, hair whitish-grey and scarred skin, supposedly burn marks, was standing outside.

"Who are you?" Chas didn't feel intimidated by his presence, as she could feel Michael watching her every movement,

"I am Dr. Sam Loomis...you are?" His voice was grim and raspy, although had great knowledge behind its veiling, "Chastity, Chastity Moores..." Dr. Loomis' eyes trailed to a moving shadow, catching the glimpse of a blurry whiteness, "Just you living here, hmmhp?" He ushered, farrowing a brow, "Yeah, just me." Chas retorted in a boldened manner, not letting her posture drop.

"I know you're here Michael!" The man she'd have known as Dr. Loomis shouted, _he knew_.

"I don't know who you are, or what your intentions are, but I'm asking you to step off my property... or else." Dr. Loomis noticed Michael moving in as Chas warned, _he had befriended this young, worthless woman?_ Dr. Loomis was astounded, _he really had!_

 **I cut this short, due to me going through a lot of shit, a lot on my mind, so I'm having writer's block a lot of the time. Hope someone's reading this and following up on me! Love youuu. 3**


	8. Lunacy Ticket

_"Relax, it's over, you belong to me, I fill your mouth with dirt_ _Relax, it's over, you can never leave. So cold, subversive, your eyes are full of bleach." - Iowa._

Chas was disinterested by Dr. Loomis' sorry attempts at luring Michael out, "I'm going to go, you're freaking me out, _Dr. Loomis..._ Michael loitered behind Chas, pretty much breathing down her neck, he wanted to stay close to her; Dr. Loomis could take her away against her will... the man was nuts.

Chas slammed the door, walking back, only to stumble into Michael's wall of himself, "H-holy fuck Michael! You scared the shit outta me!" Chas half laughed, half growled.

He was aloof to Chas' shock, but stared right at her, right into her eyes as if looking for an answer to something unanswerable. Like looking into abysmal depths, she stared back, his eyes were harrowingly dull and unhinged, but they had something to them... a story she was growing impatient to hear.

There's one way she could communicate with him; paper and pen. Chas stepped back, looking at a pen placed upon the shelf, "Gimme a sec, Michael!" she walked over to the pen, locating paper and handing it to Michael, urging him to write.

"Go on, say hello to me... _please_." Chas smiled encouragingly, becoming excited as he took the pen and paper, somewhat shyly, he turned his back and began to scribble, it took a consider amount of time, she'd only asked him to say hello;

 _Hello._ He had scrawled _Hello_ and it took him that long? Chas laughed, before returning to her serious face, "What's your... _story?_ "

Michael had a manifest of hesitant emotions brewing behind his mask, although taking the paper and writing, possibly, his story;

 _You know what I **did** and for purpose, the man in black tortured me, at such an age. I didn't know it was wrong to kill, I didn't realise that what I did was "bad". I didn't want to do it, but I have to kill to find inner peace, I'm working like a machine, no reason to pinpoint._ _Mind working mechanically, the man in black fabricated truths, saying if that I killed my bloodline, everything would be rectified..._ _I was deceived, lied to, brainwashed and my naivety taken advantage. Then I killed Judith, my parents... the **bitch** Judith deserved it though, she called me her problem, I thought I was doing her right, but apparently I was the source of her pain, "the mistake"._ _The cops came, I was so unconcerned and unaware of what I had done, but they took me. Forced me behind whitewashed walls, imbued with demented screams of mentally tortured patients, it sent me inward, inducing rage and murderous fits... uncontrollably._ _They told me I couldn't go home, they said... I couldn't go home, never again, the man you met, Dr. Loomis, told me I did something bad. I panicked, scared of myself, so I hid who I was behind the masks (like now). I stopped talking, I never wanted to be me, so I prevented anything that correlates or represents me. I ceased everything, entering a mental coma._ _I built up a bloodlust, the man told me to murder Laurie, Jamie and others; anyone whom try to stop me, I'd have to snuff the life out of them-_

Michael placed the pencil down, behind the killer, the mask, a man was crying sincere tears, but kept his robotic posture. His life felt disowned, a preserved falsehood, everyone forgot him, all but this girl. He was being left to rot.

Chas gulped back tears herself and felt utter, true empathy for Michael... he was dead inside and needed some understanding. All he needed.

Chas sat next to Michael, snuggling up to him, "I understand you, I understand what it's like to be disowned and forgotten..." She lifted up his mask as much as he allowed and planted a shy kiss on his lips.


	9. Author's Note - Ell

**Hey, guys. My stories may seem rushed lately, unorganised and shit, but just bare with me... I'll improve the quality for you. Just bide time, OK? :)**


	10. Heartstrings

_"I'm lost in my own self-inflicted delirium, the making of the plains of the abyssal. Thanks for nullifying my existence."_

The kiss was short lived, but both felt a sense of belonging. Michael allowed Chas to lay on his chest, while she watched the TV, following her eyes to the screen.

The people on the screen where talking about himself, how he hadn't been heard of for weeks now, they thought his terror had ceased and he was forgotten; maybe even dead. _How wrong they were and he'd found another companion, soon to be killing machine._ Michael smirked, he was now reminiscent to the Beast of Burden he once was, that unstoppable massacrist. Of course, his anger was never going to be upon Chas, it was now muscle memory to never lay a finger on her, or him to allow anyone to. Chas was so happy where she was, Michael didn't even feel her weight, she was so light, _oh so breakable._ Placing an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer to him, feeling her. _Would she accept this?_ She didn't even bat an eye to his actions, just disregarding him. Was she teasing? Michael tested her again, this time nudging her softly in her flank, _again, no response_. After losing patience, he reached for that sensitive spot, he'd seen siblings, friends, even lovers do this; he trailed his fingers up her ribcage, tickling under her arms and an explosion of laughter was finally triggered. _You little teaser!_ "Aha-aa! Stop, it tickles!" Chas squirmed on him, but his vicelike grip on her waist prevented her escape, "Hehe!" she giggled, trying to slither out his grip. Michael all the time felt a warmth spread throughout his body and mind, a welcoming sensation to his dormant trance. Gasping for air as the torturous tickling stopped, she looked outside, watching tiny snowflakes fall and the ground was... blanketed white, "It's snowing!" she squealed, like that of an excited child, she ran to the window, climbing onto the sill and sitting there. _"Please can we go outside, Michael, please? I won't run away and-and there's an abandoned field at the back where we can go and no one will see, oh please, please!"_ Chas tugged at his overalls, begging for some recreational time. Michael didn't approve, but he wanted **his girl** to be happy, so nodded in agreement, Chas' hand slipping into his, "Let's go!"

The snow crunched underneath their feet, Chas skipping hand in hand with Michael, who wasn't used to the whole fucking idea of hand in hand, he'd hold it too tightly sometimes and Chas would correct him, getting an embarrassed grunt from him. Upon reaching the deserted field, Chas would stare lovingly at the snow, even though chills were sent down her back.

Michael, on the other hand, didn't feel all too safe, something wasn't right... so pulled Chas towards him, standing in an aggressive bellicose and manner.

A crooked figure loomed in the distance, walking stick in hand, wearing a similar trench-coat to that of Dr. Loomis. Michael's eyes had a flicker of intentful malice in them, he'd kept his weapon of interest; The Lamson knife at his wielding. Chas tracked Michael's gaze, blinking and focusing upon a twisted and distorted silhouette in the distance, "It's him!" Chas paused, "Loomis..."

Dr. Loomis couldn't believe his eyes, Michael was protecting this girl and acting human around her, showing signs of it at least. He took a step forward, but recoiled to the vicious expression on Michael's face, it read 'take a step closer and you're no more'. He turned his back, sulking.

Chas shoved the moment away, returning to the excitement of snow! She reached down, a mischievous grin on her face, bundling snow up, she crafted a ball and called Michael over; "Mikey!"

He stumbled over to her, cocking his head as to ask _what,_ without a second to spare, Chas threw the snowball into his chest, dashing off and shouting, "Come catch me, _Michael_!"

Brushing the snow off his overalls, he gave a barely audible chuckle, _it was like chasing prey again_. He slipped behind the camouflage and shadowy surroundings of the pines and other coniferous growth, Chas looking back and seeing he was nowhere, "Michael?!" she panicked, scanning, "Michael?!"

The Shape was living up to his name, moving fluidly upon his unsuspecting prey, he slided up besides her, effortlessly swooping her up. Chas gasped, somewhat winded from the scare, "Oh fuck!" she half laughed, half hysteric. He shook his head, noticing the light was fading, Chas also noticed and realised he meant it was time to go.

This time, he held his hand out for her, taking it gently inside his palm. Unlocking the door, Chas took her scarf off and gloves, untying her whitened hair. Blue eyes stared longingly into his, "I'm going to have a shower and get dressed, I believe you'd need a shower too..." Chas offered, receiving a _yes._

Climbing the stairs, Chas undressed herself; body lithe and untouched, natural. She reached to turn the shower on, the steaming hot water rolling down her body and intertwining with each fibre of hair on her scalp. After 20 minutes or so in the shower, she got into a loose fitting lacey top and short-shorts.

Chas felt self-conscious dressed in such attire, but Michael shouldn't care, she always thought she was ugly. Her steps were light down the stairs, but loud enough to alert Michael. It was as if he'd saw a ghost, or in his mind an _angel_ , Chas was... _beautiful?_ She was amazing, he never wanted to defile **his girl** in anyway possible. Chas laughed, running upstairs, "Now you're going to shower!" she yanked him upstairs, stuffing towels into his arms and lotion, "Go on!"

Michael grumbled, reluctantly entering the bathroom. He hadn't fully closed the door...

He unzipped his overalls, making sure no one was looking, _he was pure man, muscle and bulk_ , the overalls were waist down. He reached for the mask, Chas peeping through the crack in the door, he was about to take it off, but obviously had second thoughts and closed the door.

Chas sighed, he always will be a mystery...

Now that _no one_ was watching, he took off his mask and pulled the overalls down, entering the shower.

About 15 minutes later, he redressed, well, left his overalls half done up, waist high again.

Chas blushed as he resurfaced from the bathroom, her face wild with redness, "Oh _shiz._ " she whispered under her breath, gulping. Michael had a lustful look to his eyes, advancing upon Chas, she went almost purple and nervously laughed. Michael sat on the bed, Chas moved over to him, before being pinned down and a desperate Michael looming over her...


	11. noteee

**Sorry if you do notice spelling errors, or anything along the lines, my brain is a bit _sloooow._ Thanks for being patient!**

 _Ell._


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